Why should I
by suspianxxx
Summary: Molly IS over Sherlock, she IS. At least that's what she tells herself. OK I know bad summery, basically its for Sherlolly don't like? Don't read. PS this isn't just my story I am writing it with a friend. This is a link to the other writer of this story's page /story/4252356/You-do-count-Molly-Hooper/


The ground was coming towards Sherlock at an alarming rate, and just as he was about to make contact with the ground the harness around him jerked to a halt.

He should have been scared but his brain said otherwise, because In that short space of time when he was at a standstill, he wondered what it was that gave him the ability to feel that way. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest and the adrenaline pumping furiously through him making his hands tremble.

The thought made him smile in amusement but the harness was pulling at him again sending him in the opposite direction.

The next part was planned to perfection. He would smash through the third floor window where he was certain molly would be waiting, ready to catch him should he fall.

Nervously molly shifted from foot to foot, wondering if it would work. She knew it would work, it had to work, it's Sherlock for god's sake! He can do anything!

Stop.

Molly thought angrily she couldn't afford to think like that. What interest had he ever shown in her, the annoying silly girl who works in a morgue?

Even the words he said to her when he asked for her help could not persuade her, she was certain he was using her like he always had done, and like he always will.

But Shaking all those thought from her head she stared intently out the window ready for Sherlock to do it. To jump.

And even though she had prepared herself for it she still could not suppress her gasp when she saw him plummet past her window. Some part of her wanted to go to the window to see if it worked, but she restrained herself knowing that glass would soon be everywhere and standing that close Sherlock would knock her over.

1st window, 2nd window, 3rd window smash! His aim was perfect, and as calculated, he only felt the pressure of the glass for a moment before it cracked under his weight, shards flying everywhere. Both he and molly had put their arms up to stop shards getting in their eyes but both still felt some sting as the tiny fragments sliced and jabbed painfully at their skin.

Sherlock's footing was sure and he landed swiftly and easily on his feet, remembering amazingly every detail of the way he should land.

As molly took her arm away from her face she breathed out subconsciously; relief relaxing her as she stared at Sherlock.

She couldn't help but notice his beautiful face chiselled, in her mind, perfection.

This time she had no time to snap out of it. Sherlock in one smooth action freed his coat of glass, tousled his hair removing the glass and swooped towards her. Gently he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Sherlock had never felt more alive in that moment it seemed just for a split second his in-human mind had disappeared and his body took over. He hadn't planned that kiss it just seemed appropriate, but he would never admit that, he would put it down to curiosity.

Sherlock had come back. And he'd come to see her. He'd asked her to solve crimes with him. This was what she had always wanted, but now that she had it, she wasn't so sure.

Molly walked up the stairs into the morgue, and Sherlock was standing at the top, eyes shut. She was about to open her mouth when Sherlock suddenly opened his eyes.

"The journey between those two stations usually takes five minutes, but that one took ten. Ten minutes, between the stations. Where, where could it have gone? "Sherlock was in one of his work moods, and hardly noticed Molly. " Maps. I'm going to need maps. Lots of maps, old maps, all the maps." His focus switched to her. "Maps Molly!"

And Sherlock was back, using her again. Molly felt a rush of cold hard fury, but as she studied Sherlock's face her rage quietened. "Why are you doing this?" Molly asked, with more ice than she'd meant to apply.

Sherlock blinked. "To say thank you."

It was Molly's turn to be confused. "What for?"

"Everything you do for me." Sherlock looked so earnest, so truthful that Molly almost believed he meant it. But she couldn't believe it, because if she did, her love for Sherlock would drown her.

"Okay, it's my pleasure."

Sherlock stepped closer.

"No, I mean it." Molly's heart started beating faster, and she remembered why she loved being around him.

"I didn't mean it wasn't my pleasure, I meant I didn't mind-"

"Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake, because the one person he didn't think mattered at all to me... "Sherlock took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He tentatively spoke the next line, "Was the one person who Mattered the most" Sherlock stood, his body posture evidently nervous, or so it seemed to him. He opened one eye, and realising he looked foolish, opened the other.

"Molly, I... I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, that kiss. I know it's ridiculous and I have no experience in human nature, so usually the whole thing would not even be considered. But you, Molly Hooper..."

He gazed intently into her face, wondering why she looked so uncomfortable. Trailing off, Sherlock crossed his fingers that she would respond, and his heart was beating so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Molly's face contorted into something that Sherlock had only seen once before, at Christmas, when he'd found out that Molly fancied him.

"Sherlock...how can you say that to me?"

Sherlock anxiously tried to explain what he'd meant. "Well, I thought that-"

"No, I don't want to hear your excuses, Sherlock Holmes, it's not all about you!"

Molly was tearing her heart apart, but she had to tell him. She tried to express her feelings before, but Sherlock being Sherlock, had simply refused to let get a word in edgeways.

"You kissed me, lulled me into a false sense of security, and then take off without a word?"

Molly swallowed, and accidentally let her rant trail off.

"Well, I did consider-"

"Consider? Sherlock, you are the most - the most insufferable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet!"

She blinked twice, but Sherlock countered with something that enraged her beyond believe.

"Thank you. Does this mean that you would be willing to come with me for a coffee?"

Molly looked at Sherlock's face, his face, so...Beautiful ... No. Stop it. No. You are over Sherlock Holmes! And to prove it,

She slapped him. Hard.

The crack echoed through the morgue, making it sound more painful than it was.

Sherlock raised his hand to his cheek, and felt the sting of her palm, and it was fine, yes, fine. Just because he was clearly giving off body language that said he was hurt did not mean he needed to make a fuss. However, his body told him otherwise.

"Ow..." Sherlock let out an involuntary cry of pain, even though it shamed him. Sherlock Holmes, being beaten up by a woman?

Why was his own body betraying him? Why had the slap hurt him so much, even though by normal standards it shouldn't have hurt. Was it the fact that it was Molly Hooper angry at him, that almost broke him?

"Oh, Sherlock.. I'm.. s-sorry. Do you, need... Um, any ice?" Sherlock opened his mouth, but Molly cut him off. "No, it's ok. I know you don't want any."

"Well, actually-"

"No, you don't want any."

Molly turned, and started walking down the many steps to the ground floor. Sherlock stood and let her walk away. When Molly had reached the bottom of the stair well and was about to push open the door, Sherlock's wits kicked into action.

"Molly! Wait!" He shouted, taking the steps two at a time.

"Molly. I wanted to ask." He took a deep breath. If she slapped him again, he would know where he stood. In a rush he said, "Do you want to get some coffee? Just me? And you, as well... Of course you as well... Sorry. Coffee?"

Being nice was too hard for Sherlock. He'd already been beaten by a Serbian freak, slapped round the face by Molly and forced into deducing an underground terrorist organisation by Mycroft. He still had to visit John, and Sherlock needed a coffee, if only to prepare him for John.

"COFFEE!" Sherlock yelled, and, pulling Molly by the arm, hurried out of St Bart's, and onto the crowded streets of London.


End file.
